Just One Boy
by lotrobsession
Summary: Harry discovers that much has changed since his fifth year as Hogwarts, most of all himself. He harbors many dark secrets and if they don't find a way out, they could kill him.


Title: Just One Boy

Rating: PG- Pg-13

Pairings: implied Remus/ Sirius, unsure about other ships

Summary: Harry finds that much has changed after his fifth year. Not just the wizard world but himself as well. SLASH, mild Angst

Prologue

One extremely depressed Mr. Harry Potter sat at the foot of his bed. His head rested between his hands and he was resting in an undignified slump that would have made Snape frown. Now, why was he depressed, you ask? He, being the Boy Who Lived, he, the one who had everything one could possibly ask for? No one knows for sure, not even Mister Potter himself. He just sits there, pondering his past, present and future. Many questions are going through his head, each staying no longer than the preceeding one. What is to become of him after the Defeat of Voldemort? Why was he not attracted to females? Why was Dumbledore, who was once a fatherly figure to him, so annoying? The answers escaping him, before they can even linger and taunt him with the ghosts of their presence. But no, no answers were coming to him today. One Mr. Potter brushed his long bangs out of his eyes and sighed.

Chapter 1 Concerning Insanity

"Harry! Breakfast!"

The teenager got up from the floor, his black bangs hanging before his eyes, impairing his vision. It was messy, but some would say it looked better that way. Emerald eyes glanced nervously around the room behind heavy-rimmed glasses. They seemed to lack their usual sparkle, serving as a window to his very soul. If you had peered through those glassy windows, you would have seen sadness, pain, weariness, and…a hint of hope? But, just as suddenly as it had appeared, the window slammed shut, as if someone inside had caught you peering in.

"Bloody Hell! Harry! How long are you gonna take brushing your pretty girl hair?"

Harry gave a dry snort. He had let his hair grow longer until it had been capable of being swept back into a small ponytail sprouting from the base of his skull. Still, it was not long enough to justify his cousin's comment. With a strong hand, strengthened and bronzed by years of Quidditch, he grasped the dorrknob and wrenched the door open.

"I'm coming! Stop yelling, you prat!"

He jumped from landing to landing, not even bothering to use the steps. He considered them as decoration. As he landed perfectly in front of his less than amused aunt he announced triumphantly.

"Ladies and gentlemen, I believe that was just the perfect performance from Mr. Harry Potter! I'd give that a 10!"

He bowed low, smirking at the disapproval etched deeply onto Petunia's face. When he stalked into the kitchen, he saw Dudley roll his eyes over his king-size bowl of sugar-packed cereal. Today's flavor? Sugar Bombs. Excellent. He sat down next to him, ignoring the pointed look his uncle sent him over his newspaper. He grinned into his glass of milk when he heard him mutter, "Bloody teenagers." The newspaper rustled as Uncle Vernon shook and folded it, placing it onto the table.

"Have you finished packing? You go back to your _school_ tomorrow. I will not have you sending a ruddy owl to tell me that you've forgotten something." His fleshy face went a shade darker when he emphasized the word "school".

Harry sent him an innocent smile.

"Of course, Uncle Vernon. I wouldn't think of interrupting your peaceful home life." While he spoke, he tugged lightly on a long bang hanging in front of his eyes. It was a little habit of his whenever he was being sarcastic or lying.

A vein on Uncle Vernon's forehead throbbed. Instead of the normal sharp reprimand he would have received before this year, his uncle just clenched his teeth and muttered, "Good." Dudley grunted into his cereal. At the beginning of the summer, he had protested whenever Harry had been let off the hook. Now, after several spats with his mother and one tantrum too many, he had learned to let them pass. He looked up long enough to send Harry a poisoned glare. The effect was somewhat dampened by the milk dripping of his chin, and the half-chewed cereal that had somehow been lucky enough to escape from the hell that was Dudley Dursley's mouth.

Harry sighed. He couldn't help it. It seemed that the peaceful (for once) summer had cursed him with the growth of horrible, annoying habits. He then sighed again, for good measure. Petunia glanced up from her grapefruit half (another one of those no good diet plans for Dudley that had ended up being used only by her) and glanced at him. There was no unspoken question in her eye, no worries. Just an acknowledgment and a blatant dismissal.

"May I please be excused, Uncle Vernon?"

"Don't forget to wash your own dishes." Vernon grunted.

Harry took that as a yes. He stacked his cup, bowl, and spoon neatly and brought them over to the sink. He pumped a little dishwashing detergent onto a small sponge ( Mmm, Lysol) and started scrubbing his plates. His mind slowly slipped away from the dishes and onto other, more important things. He was placing the wet bowl back into the rack when a sharp pain jolted him from his thoughts. When he had put the bowl back, his hand had been nicked by a knife, sticking out the other end. Harry cursed softly and placed the afflicted digit into his mouth and proceeded to suck. Another annoying habit. He gave a slight inclination of the head to his "family" as he exited the dining room and made his way to the bathroom for a band-aid.

The cut didn't bother him that much since he only brushed past a small steak knife. Still, it bled like a mother and stung like another. Harry didn't mind though. The knife was the duplicate of another in his room. One he used to hurt himself at times. One that he enjoyed fingering, just to feel the danger, just to be so close, always stopping before it got too big, too deep, too major. He always stopped before killing himself. However depressed and hormonal he may be at the moment, Harry was a Gryffindor, through and through. The Dursleys had done him a favor by providing him with food, shelter, and clothes for 15 years. They had provided a place to return to, a place to call home. They hadn't provided him with a _warm_ home, or people he could depend on, but nonetheless, he would repay the debt.

Not many would say Harry was suicidal, least of all Harry himself. He didn't know what he was. There was no abuse, rape, or major drama in his life, besides a killer wizard that has been planning to kill him and take over the world ever since he was born. No, nothing big. It was just how he handled things. He could stop. Anytime. He kept a journal and had it on him 24/7. He used it to vent and to let his feelings out, without actually having anyone knowing. Harry had many friends. All were accepting, loving, responsible individuals, but none were like his trust old journal. It never judged. He would call it his _best_ friend if he wanted to be thrown in an asylum.

Harry quickly wrapped the bandage over his finger, and grabbed a couple more from the first-aid kit, stuffing them in his pocket. He trudged back to his room, spirits lifting, mind clearing. He was just your average teenager on a beautiful sunny morning, the day before he could return to his favorite place on Earth. His Uncle had asked if he had packed. Ha! If his Uncle had paid attention to him more often, he would have know that he had _been_ packed for more than a week. There were only a couple loose items left. The things under the loose floorboard. There really was no need for it anymore, but Harry still kept it for old times sake. Sometimes, he would take out his wand and toy with it. He would twirl it between his fingers, hold it and practice wand motions, and he become quite juvenile and pretend it was sword, brandishing it at the innocent pillows lying against the cabinets. Twas' the only way a poor teenager could entertain himself in an uneventful summer. Making little sound effects, and jumping from surface to surface. Needless to say, he scared the bejeesus out of his relatives. For all they knew, he could be letting loose wild animals in his room. All they could do was hold onto the reassurance that their nephew (or cousin) was not allowed to practice magic during the summer. Harry's room was avoided like the plague, just incase there was charm or hex lingering in it.

Harry picked his way over to the desk, dodging many a pile of rancid clothes lying on the floor. What could he say? Boys would be boys. He hurriedly stuffed the bandages into the secret compartment that he had had installed into the side. Over the years, he had made quite the collection. He closed and locked his desk and gave a small whoop as he threw himself down on the bed. Just one more day, less than 24 hours and he would be back at Hogwarts! Suddenly, he bolted upright from his bed. School supplies! Shit! He had been waiting for Ron to call to arrange the meeting. They had greed to go shopping together. A million explanations surged through his head. He swore loudly and made his way downstairs. His aunt and uncle came to investigate the racket. Dudley watched sullenly from his chair. He had not moved from it often since summer started.

"What in the nine hells is going on here? Now, see here boy, I merely tolerate your presence in this household so I can keep my hide from being skinned by those freak friends of yours! But I will _not _allow you to interrupt my _only_ peace and quiet!"

Petunia made a small sound of agreement. Harry would have made a rude comeback had not the door swung open to reveal five redheads, and several other people.

"Ron, Hermione! Professor Lupin!" Harry's jaw dropped with surprise.

Vernon was making little squeaky noises in the back of his throat.

"I didn't mean it! I swear!" He stuttered.

Mad-Eye Moody looked him up and down.

"Guilty conscience, Dursley?" He gave a rather feral grin. It was too much for Vernon. He had to be helped back to the kitchen by a rather ashen-faced Petunia.

The entire Weasley family and most of the familiar Order were standing right on his doorstep!

"Wha?" Harry nervously brushed his bangs out of his eyes. Annoying habit number four.

"Why, that is the most intellectual sound I've heard all morning!" Fred (or George) exclaimed.

"S'right, mate! With all this hullabaloo about last minute school shopping…" George (or Fred) glanced back at his twin.

"And we thought we were insane!" He wiggled his eyebrows for the effect. " Now see here, mother. You would have _never_ leave our school shopping until the last minute!"

Mrs. Weasley scowled at them.

"And look where you ended up." Ginny stepped out from behind her father.

"Oi, you! No need to be hateful!" George sputtered in mock outrage.

"We're going to London…now?" Harry was starting to recover from the initial surprise.

"Sure, why not?" Lupin seemed to have aged tremendously after Sirius's death. It turns out that they were more than just friends.

Harry gave him a small smile.

"And we called them insane." He motioned towards the twins and shaking his head in false reverence.

End Chapter 1

I have felt like writing lately. If this Harry is out of character, please feel free to tell me. I am open to any constructive criticism.

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